Fran And Her Man Poem by Steven B Taylor

Humorous


Fran and Her Man

Opus 31

My mother told me years ago,
It wasn't nice to poke great fun,
At those who might not really know,
What foolish, heinous, things they've done.

There was a girl, whose name was Fran,
Who desperate was, to get a man.
She traveled out to Colorado,
In search of several desperadoes.

When nothing happened, our dear Fran,
Went off to prison, there to teach.
She met a most misogynous man,
Whom no authority could reach.

Why had he been put in the slammer?
For robbery, or rape or worse?
For hitting someone with a hammer?
Or making out within a hearse?

No matter what disease he carried,
It did not have our heroine worried
She up, and to the man got married.
But he was still incarcerated.

Fran waited for her loving man,
Until the day of his release.
She hid him in a moving van,
From the watchful eyes of the police.

Now here this fairy tale must wend,
It's way to us, here in this place,
Because we don't know how it ends,
But only that we see his face.

Is this a romance made in heaven?
Or just a disaster waiting to show?
We have to mix our bread with leaven,
Because we really do not know!

Yet late at night with curtains drawn,
Some progeny may yet be spawned,
To replicate the hopeful Fran,
Or possibly, her loving man!

Oh, Mon Dieu!

Irreverently dedicated to Fran and her Man!

Steven B. Taylor
August 16,1997